Don't Be Afraid
by DarkMuse112
Summary: Grell has one last client for the night, and he feels a bit guilty about it. One-shot, written originally for a contest on DeviantArt


It was beginning to drizzle. Pity. His hair was perfect tonight. How typical of the London weather to be so unforgiving. Maintaining one's appearance was no easy task in agreeable weather, no less the constant damp that blanketed the city. The weather was the only drawback of the area. In every other aspect, London had everything a person could ever want, regardless of the class or creature.

Grell Sutcliff currently held his position at the peak of a dormer in the middle of Piccadilly in the West End. Growing slightly agitated that his ensemble was falling apart due to the rain, he looked to the clock tower only a few blocks to the east. 12:34. It wasn't quite time just yet.

If allowed the chance to contemplate, he might have felt just a tad bit guilty about his current circumstance. It had been chance that had landed him this client tonight. The young Earl Phantomhive had already lost his aunt to Grell's bloodlust, and now he would be losing his betrothed by the same hand. Grell could not help but smirk at the irony. The only difference this time was that the reaping was legally sanctioned.

There were at least ten more minutes left before his appointment, but Grell needed to get out of the rain. His hair was turning to frizz.

Hopping down off the roof and taking refuge under a nearby overhang, he easily blended into the shadows. He had chosen not to wear what used to be Madame Red's luxurious, designer jacket, but instead sported the black uniform that was standard among reapers. Knowing in advance his client's identity, he did not think that appearing so casually before the family of the late Angelina Durless in her clothing would be quite appropriate under the circumstances.

He waited below the overhang for several more minutes before he decided it was time to make his move toward the townhouse across the street.

Under complete invisibility, Grell hopped up to the second story, taking a moment to steady his footing on the open windowsill. He did not wish to make his presence known to anyone inside the room just yet. Slightly sheer drapery obscured the portal, but Grell could still make out the silhouettes of three figures. One was in the bed, coughing uncontrollably. Another sat quietly, solemnly, in a chair at the first figure's feet, and a third, taller one stood, looming over the second. He knew each figure's identity without needing to examine them closer for details. Elizabeth Middleford, the soul on his list, was the dying girl in the bed. It was only natural that Ciel Phantomhive, her betrothed, and his shadow of a butler, Darling Sebastian, would be there to see her off.

Despite her nobility, Lizzie had somehow caught the consumption. It had been ravaging her body for weeks. Within the last couple of days, her health had declined rapidly. Ciel, so far, had been coping well: on the outside, at least. When thinking on young Ciel's stoic, and unsmiling demeanor, Grell hardly thought the boy would even care. Did he really love her? What were his true feelings for her? Did he pay her any mind at all? Grell could not be sure. The young Earl tended to be hard to read.

If Ciel was at all upset about the situation, tonight would be the last for sadness. At this moment, it was clear that she couldn't go on.

Ciel stood, and went to her side, a white handkerchief in hand for dabbing up the droplets of blood that had formed on her lower lip and at the corners of her mouth. He did not cry or show any kind of emotion. He simply sighed. Morbid the thought may have been to anyone else but Grell, he looked on the scene as a thing of beauty that tickled his romantic fancy.

Outside, the wind had picked up. It whipped droplets of rain onto Grell's glasses, which distorted his vision. His hair was completely disheveled by now, so he produced a red string from within his pocket and tied his long mane of scarlet behind his back.

It was time.

The door that led to the hallway was open, and suddenly, it swung back into the wall behind it. Sebastian turned his head slightly in response to the sound, but paid it little mind. It was merely the wind raging outside that had caused the disturbance. That same wind blew out the candles in the candelabra that had been placed on the table at the foot of the bed.

"You."

Ciel had noticed Grell's presence almost as soon as the reaper had dropped his invisibility. Grell stood ominously in the window, the light of the moon sending beams of blueish-white across the carpet and casting a shadow of his imposing form over the gathering as the curtains blew around him.

"Why, it is me, dear. Whom else would it be?" Grell said, placing a hand to his chest as a gesture to himself.

"Aren't there others like you? Why did it have to be you?" Grell was not entirely surprised that the boy was upset about Grell's involvement in this. But what surprised him even more was the fact that Ciel seemed so… cavalier about his bride-to-be meeting her end. Possibly he never really cared for her at all.

"It was not my decision, I can assure you." Grell looked up to Sebastian, who stood like a stone statue near the Earl's chair, and winked. Sebastian gave no sign of acknowledgement.

Ciel seemed lost for words. He stared at Grell, a look of almost sadness in his eyes. Maybe it was anger.

"My Lord," Sebastian finally spoke, "perhaps it would be best for you to leave the room."

Ciel whipped around to face Sebastian. "I'm not leaving her. I'll be damned if this thing is the one to kill her. He killed my Aunt, I'm not letting him kill another member of my family."

"It's not me what's killing her," Grell interjected, "that would be the consumption. I'm only here to take her soul. She's going to die no matter what you do, so why not calm down and let me do my job. It will be easier for everyone."

Ciel turned back to Grell, brow furrowed, anger burning behind his visible eye. Perhaps the eye concealed by the patch had turned a bright crimson from the boy's passion. What a sight that would be!

Grell grinned, and revved the engine on his death scythe.

Ciel's gaze never left the crimson reaper. At the sound of Grell's death scythe roaring to life, Lizzie's eyes slowly opened and she turned her head toward him. He looked at her for a moment, allowing the guilt he harbored over Angelina to bubble to the surface. Perhaps it was a sign of asking forgiveness for the wrongs he had done this family or maybe it was a sign of compassion, but he extended a hand toward the girl, a calming smile upon his face.

She examined his hand for a moment, her body shuddering as a few last coughs reached her lips. Then, reluctantly, she reached, taking his hand. He passed her a kind grin as the smell of death instantly permeated her body. To him, it was a sweet scent, his scent, like roses and musk. But to the others in the room, it was rotten. Ciel covered his nose, a slight gagging sound reaching his throat. Sebastian merely wrinkled his nose in disgust. The smell never translated the same to humans as it did to reapers, and even then, each reaper's scent was unique.

A moment later, he released her from his grip, returning his grasp to his scythe. She smiled softly and tilted her head back into the pillow. She understood, and was not afraid. He revved the engine once more, and gently pressed the revolving blade into her chest.

Her record came bursting forth from the wound like caged snakes hungry to be free from their prison. Ciel could not see the records, but watched as his fiancée writhed in her last dying moment. His face was expressionless.

She was fairly young, and so her record did not take too long to review. Grell was surprised to find however, that her life had not been all tea parties and royal balls. Lizzie had actually been fairly skilled with a sword, and only because of her love for Ciel and her desire to protect him, had she resigned herself to being the dainty little maiden that he had known.

He almost felt bad.

Elizabeth's soul went quickly and without a fuss. Such was the advantage of facing one's death with acceptance.

As much as he would have liked to, Grell determined that she could not be spared and marked it in his book. She had become like all of the Phantomhive family members who had gone before her. Perhaps in the afterlife, she would be with them, even though she had never gotten the chance to officially become part of the family.

Wanting to leave without making a scene, Grell turned around quickly to face the window.

"I have no one," Ciel muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He leaned against the bedside of the now deceased Elizabeth Middleford, staring at the blankets. "I'm all alone. She was all I had left."

Grell stopped, unsure if he should say anything or not. In the end, he turned to the young earl and offered a bright side. "But you have your darling Sebastian, no?"

"It's not the same!" Ciel pounded his fists on the bed and sunk to his knees, covering his face in his arms. Sebastian made no move from where he had been standing throughout this entire ordeal, but passed a dark glare toward Grell.

He turned again to leave through the window, giving a small, little wink to Sebastian, who remained stoic. The gesture was not returned.

Without another word, Grell shrugged, hopping out the window and back into the rain. He was looking forward to the warm bed and wine that awaited him back in the reaper realm, which right now, he desperately needed.

**Author's Notes:**

I don't actually hate Lizzie, but she annoys me to no end in the anime. In the manga, she turned out to be a pretty awesome badass, so I can forgive her :3 Also, the rules for the contest I wrote this fic for state that I can't use original characters, so that's why Lizzie gets to die. Weee.

I based this story off of the Blue Öyster Cult song, "Don't Fear the Reaper," and this verse in particular:

_Came the last night of sadness,_

_It was clear that she couldn't go on._

_The door was open and the wind appeared_

_The candles blew and then disappeared_

_The curtains flew and then he appeared…saying don't be afraid_

_Come on baby...and she had no fear_

_And she ran to him…then they started to fly_

_They looked backward and said goodbye…she had become like they are_

_She had taken his hand…she had become like they are_

_Come on baby… don't fear the reaper._

If you are not educated on 70's classic rock, I suggest you get yourself up to speed by listening to the song here .com/watch?v=cMYSWiPm7E0

There is also a version by H.I.M. if you prefer a more contemporary, emo-fied version of the song. .com/watch?v=Y6ujKaPAjBQ


End file.
